And yet Adelheid breathed more freely than she had done for many a day, at the thought that this was the last one at Fuerstenstein.  To-morrow at this time, she would be far away, and distance she prayed would save her from that dark influence against which she had been battling for weeks in vain, when she would no longer see those eyes whose power she dreaded, or hear the voice which bewitched her.  When she had flown from the mysterious power which held her, she could conquer and utterly destroy it.  God be praised!

The sound of the hunt grew each moment less distinct, and was finally lost altogether in the distance; but in the wood, near the elevation on which she stood, the baroness could hear crunching footsteps which told her she was no longer alone.  She turned to go in an opposite direction, but as she turned, a man’s form appeared among the trees, and Hartmut Rojanow stood before her.

The meeting was so sudden that Adelheid lost her self-possession.

She drew back as if seeking protection among the trees beneath which she had been standing, and stared at him with the eyes of a wounded animal watching the pursuing hunter.

Rojanow did not appear to perceive this.  He bowed and asked hastily:  “Are you alone, baroness?  The accident was not serious, then?”

“What accident?”

“I heard you’d been thrown from your horse!”

“What an exaggeration.  My saddle girth broke, and as I saw it in time I jumped to the ground, while the animal stood perfectly still—­that was the accident.”

“Thank God—­I heard something of a plunge, a fall, and as you did not return to the hunting field I—­”

He stopped suddenly, for Adelheid’s glance showed him she did not believe his statement; he had probably met the groom and had questioned him.  Now at last her self-possession returned, and she said very coldly: 

“I thank you, Herr Rojanow, but your solicitude was altogether unnecessary.  You should have reflected that the duchess would not have allowed me to remain unsought in the wood had so serious an accident occurred.  I sent her word I was on my way to Bucheneck.”

She would have passed by him now, but as he stepped aside, he said in a low voice: 

“My dear madame—­I have to beg your pardon.”

“My pardon—­for what?”

“For the favor for which I plead so hard and injudiciously.  I only asked for a flower.  Is my crime then so great that your anger must last for weeks?”

Adelheid remained standing, almost without knowing it.  She was again under the influence of those eyes and that wonderful voice.

“You are mistaken, Herr Rojanow,” she responded.  “I am not angry with you.”

“No?  And yet you assume again that icy tone which is ever yours when I am near you, and now that you have heard my drama you make no sign of approval.  You were present when I read it at Fuerstenstein.  I heard words of praise on all sides.  Your lips alone were closed.  From you I received no single word of commendation—­will you deny it to me now?”